World Without Song
by FFlove190
Summary: Inuart longs for Furiae's love and lusts for Caim's power. Compared to the prince in the goddess's heart, Inuart is nothing, only a song. That will soon change... Inuart PoV; CxI
1. Prologue

:-: Prologue :-:

Caim.

That name means so much, and so little. A prince, a warrior, a brother; but, those are merely titles, empty appellations. There are only piercing blue eyes are always clouded by bloodlust and hate, sword always poised. There is no object of this earth can keep him from protecting the goddess, his only remaining family. He has nothing more, and nothing less, and as this, he is merely another walking this earth.

Caim.

I see the way the goddess stares so longingly after her brother, bearing the weight of the seals on her innocent ashen-pale form. She, the ghost that rarely traverses the castle halls beyond her chambers, travels only to see him, never me. When her fingertips clasp shakily in an exhausted prayer, I hear her call his name in a mantra gasping as she breaths for her brother to stand before her. She never calls for me.

The prince is blind of her affection, blind to all that is not soiled by blood and hate. He remains too lost leading the Union against the Empire, raising his blade against the bane of the infidels that dare walk this earth beside us. His is a form that rarely graces her sight now. Instead, I remain beside her, singing soothing songs.

Caim...

There is nothing more I can do to quell my once betrothed's heart. I had always known there was a tie between them, a deep connection I would never touch, no matter how many times I called to her. The love of siblings cannot be matched. Furiae's love for her dearest brother becomes more apparent as the weight of the goddess's burdens grows heavier in her bosom. It grows more obvious with each passing day I stand beside her.

Despite this, I can still I take pride in taking her to a haven - to my world of song. It is there that I know she becomes one with me, if only as she listens to me sing. I know, deep down, that this the only way she could love me - as a bard, not a man, not a warrior. She loves only my voice, not my companionship. If ever I were to lose this part of me that she so dearly loved…

Caim.

I was always jealous of him. He had the power, the strength, and the love of his sister while I had only a harp. Whenever I would draw my sword to him, the prince's smirk always force me back. Yet, he never harms me. Instead, in all the battles we have waged, he merely pushes me down, blue eyes glinting in humor at my weakness.

Caim!

I will become stronger and Fureai will love me! The goddess's heart will feel no burdens as she lies in my arms, and no love for one who will never have her. I will defeat him! My strength, my cunning, my power - they will surpass his own

Caim!

My betrothed shall love only me - shall be protected only by me. I will not be defeated!

A/N: Just a little something, soon there will be more. Someone asked why Inuart made such a big deal about losing his voice and that whole "welcome to a world without song" quote he said in the Pride cutscene... it made me want to do something. Here you go, expect more shortly.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Drakengard, that be Dragonsphere productions where that blasted company SquareEnix just provided the means to distribute it


	2. Return

:-: Return :-:

The sun is glistening against the gray bricks of the courtyard today. Still the stone remains colorless beyond the blue of the sky and Union flag, and I find my eyes wandering to those who patrol wordlessly by the gates. The soft green hues of the few remaining trees pass wordlessly through my gaze amidst the manmade swards they thrive amongst. Here, in this bland world of constantly upturning dust and brick, I can only see myself as a red stain against the people, like the remnants of a massacre – a broken heart. Their features are grim and haggard, lined by the cold metal of helmets and the solid blue of the Union. In some ways, I know my own face echoes their pain, and they allow me to suffer alone.

There has become no point in curiously looking in the faces of these soldiers any longer nor they into mine. We have grown used to one another - me, with hair of flame and a tunic of blood, and they with painted silver and blue. We have a mutual agreement of silence, for the war has driven much hope from their eyes and Furiea's pain mine.

I let my lips purse and feel my gaze slowly drift to the squat tower where my once betrothed rests, locked undoubtedly in another prayer, suffering alone and in silence as she awaits her elder brothers return to the single standing castle of the Union. Fleetingly, I ponder if she would reveal to him her devotion and utter submission to his will. Yet, holding back a snort as I think these thoughts, I know she is too grateful for the prince's rare meetings to ask for more. Love would be too much. Love by the only one who can protect her, love by her savior and guardian.

Love by he who is not me.

The morn has melted into noon, and I loiter listlessly atop the cobblestones. A raiding party left the castle ten days past, to try and reclaim the eastern outposts of the castle, which had been overrun by the Empire's soldiers. The prince led them, his sword eager for the taste of blood and his eyes darkened with the promise of battle. It could only be hoped that he would return, if only for Furiea's sake…

The prince, bathed in blood, was an image many had come to know him by, and rarely was the crimson life his own. Silently I have wondered how much of it was his own, and secretly I have worried. The prince lives now only to kill and slaughter, his life means nothing once the Empire falls. And when he falls, the Union shall crumble… and the goddess shall break.

Familiar scouting calls alert me to the arriving party and scatter my loathsome thoughts. Accompanied by the grating squall of the metal gates as they are raised to welcome their master the horses call breaks the silence that seems to constantly descend now upon the castle. At the sounds, I turn to face the riders who kick dustclouds behind them, still yet to cross the bridge marking the small destroyed and abandoned town at the boundaries of the Union's castle. The distance is a long one, and the horses seem as eager as the men to return to the colorless void that serves now as their home. Around me, bustles of silver and blue gather together, and hope - which had seemed so lost before - shines in each of their faces.

My pride aches because I know who it was who could invoke such hope, and that man will never be me.

Caim...

I can see him now. Caim - the only soldier foolish enough to be free of a helmet - sits smugly atop the muddy brown of a young stallion, raven locks fanning his head and the dust-covered sky. Even from this far, distance growing shorter with each breath, I can see the lips sneering like the maws of a dragon after feasting on the bodies of the dead. No doubt many were slaughtered by his hand the few days he and the others had set to reclaim the outer reaches.

One day, though, I shall become stronger than him and those numbers shall be nothing compared to those I shall destroy. I will have more than my harp and my voice; I will have power and love. I will have taken his place.

I find myself tensing at the thought, tongue running against the backs of my teeth as if I can taste victory before me. A smirk fills my features, though not intentional, and stretches the skin of my face, my eyes narrowing. Trembles of excitement and expectation wrack me, and my gloved hands awkwardly clench the air, lusting for the feel of my weapon.

I will defeat Caim. And I shall take his place.

As the leader of the Union strides forth upon the powerful stallion, I find my gaze upon him, only to find his raging eyes locked already on mine. My smirk of a future battle's triumph falters for a moment as he dismounts, features contorted still in their blood lust. Steeling myself, I do not step away from Caim, straightening my back as he makes his way through the loyal crowd of soldiers. The deep blue of his armor's tunic is stained with blood, but his breath and pace are steady. And so remains his bloodthirsty gaze.

The prince only pauses a moment as he passes me, saying a simple, "tomorrow," through a demeaning smirk, and is gone - retreating to the loving arms of his sister.

A darkness clouds my sight as I turn to face his retreating form, and I can barely contain the need to draw my sword and fight him now. Fortunately, though, the need to behead another is stronger than the need to be beheaded by the swiftly moving iron-clad men who work about me. Instead, I merely set my teeth against one another and purse my lips until they feel colorless. I do not bare my teeth as would some lesser animal; I would not show that I am weaker than him wielding only the power of empty threats. My fingers curl into each other with rage, but I pull them away from my palm refusing to show any signs of that utter weakness and submission.

I would replace Caim in Furiae's heart. And the hearts of all his men.

Late into the evening I sparred against the air, fighting against the Caim who resided within my mind, until my sword grew heavier than my heart.

A/N: Would you believe that this has been sitting on my hardrive for almost a year before I remembered that I was writing something epic? Probably not. I'm rather happy with it and wary to change it, so here you go. Hopefully the next chapter will be coming out soon. Whether or not you review I'll get to it eventually. ;)


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